


Tears from a Star

by helsinkibaby



Series: Tests of Faith [5]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-08-03
Updated: 2002-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-13 14:30:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2154078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Toby and Ginger handle the shooting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tears from a Star

_Perhaps this final act was meant_  
To clinch a lifetime's argument  
That nothing comes from violence  
And nothing ever could.  
For all us born beneath an angry star,  
Lest we forget how fragile we are.  
On and on, the rain will fall  
Like tears from a star, like tears from a star.  
On and on, the rain will say  
How fragile we are, how fragile we are  
  
*

The mess is nearly deserted now, surprising for this time of the night. Although, tonight isn't just any night. The President is going to a Town Hall meeting in Rosslyn, which is going to be nationally televised, and most of the Senior Staff and their assistants are preparing to leave shortly. A goodly amount of support staff are already over there, making sure that everything is set up just right, just so. We don't want any mess-ups tonight, not after we've spent so long prepping the speech.

I know exactly how important this meeting is. You can't work in the West Wing of the White House and not know how important the meeting is. It's the first public question and answer session that's been held since our numbers began to climb last week, and all going well, they'll climb a little more after tonight. At least, that's what Toby and everyone else is hoping.

It's been a madhouse here all day, and for once I'm happy that I'm not actually going to the meeting. It's been a hell of a day, and all I want to do is go home and sleep, which of course, is little more than a pipedream. Bonnie, on the other hand, has another few hours to go yet, because she drew the short straw and has to attend the meeting. Which is why she snuck down here to get a grilled cheese sandwich, and why I went with her.

"You know, I could go," I tell her, and not for the first time today.

"Girl, I'd love for you to go. But Toby told me…"

I sigh, knowing exactly what Toby told her. "Yeah, I know. He told me too." Another sigh escapes me, and I wonder again why the hell I ever married such a stubborn man. "He wants me home in case there's any news."

Bonnie shakes her head. "Ginger, I've gotta tell you. I know that there's a lot about Toby that we don't know that you do. But I can't believe that we didn't know that he had a brother." I shift uncomfortably in my seat, the mention of Toby's brother a sore point with me, but Bonnie doesn't notice, carrying on with her train of thought. "His dad has visited you, his sisters have visited you…but never his brother. Why is that?"

I take a bite of my sandwich, chewing it slowly, buying time. Bonnie might never have met David, but I have. Once. And the memory of that once is enough to silence me, enough to make me feel waves of guilt. "Toby and David had words…. the last time they spoke to each other." I settle for an edited version of the truth, hoping that that would satisfy her, but it doesn't. Bonnie is not only Toby's other assistant, and as such the person with whom I work most closely, she's also become one of my best friends since we started working together. She knows that I've been worrying over this all day, and she knows that if a man as loyal as Toby has cut his brother out of his life, then it wasn't for something trivial.

"How long ago was that?"

I should also have mentioned that not only is Bonnie smart enough to have worked all this out, she's also smart enough to know the questions to ask that are most likely to get me talking.

Well, it's never failed her before, and it doesn't now.

"About two years ago." I could tell her the exact date, but that would give matters away, and she already knows, and I know by the look in her eyes that she's made the connection.

"Wasn't that around the time that you guys…"

"Yeah."

We lapse into silence, her into thought, me into memory. I was already involved with Toby when I started work on the campaign; that's how I got my job here. I'd just finished my Masters, we'd been doing the long distance thing for far too long, and it made sense for me to join him. My parents weren't too pleased; they thought that volunteering on a presidential campaign was beneath someone with my qualifications, and they certainly weren't sure of my relationship with Toby. I could understand their concern, to a certain extent. After all, he's fifteen-odd years older than me, he's divorced, he's Jewish, his job - Professional Political Operative at the time - was uncertain at best, not what you'd call secure. But I was lucky, because they saw how happy he made me, and eventually, after hoping I'd grow out of it, they gave the relationship their blessing.

Toby's family was something else though. They hated me at first. At first I just presumed it was because I wasn't Jewish; after all, Toby had already been through a divorce from one non-Jewish woman, and that had left him pretty broken-hearted. I soon figured out that it wasn't just my religion that was the problem, it was the fact that I was more like Andi than they were comfortable with. We were both non-Jewish redheads, with good educations, good families and strong opinions, and we both professed to love Toby. The only real difference was in our ages. So after all, if she had left him, if she had broken his heart, then how much more likely was I to do the same? But I did love him, and I didn't let anyone scare me away, or intimidate me. And after a while, most of his family came to tolerate me, if not actually like me.

David, though, was different. Not only did he never like me; he never even tried to get to know me. He did tell Toby what he thought of me though, and none of it good. And the two brothers, who had once been so close, were all of a sudden barely on speaking terms. David's wife, who was one of the first of the Ziegler clan to be nice to me, talked to him, and I talked to Toby, but they're both as stubborn as one another and neither of them would budge.

And then we got married.

Understand please, that we didn't plan to get married. I was happy being with Toby, happy in the daily madness that was the Bartlet for America campaign, and I was taking things one day at a time, confident that the future would take care of itself. Toby was running around like a lunatic, trying everything he could to get Governor Bartlet elected, and I thought he had more things to worry about than where our relationship might be going. Until we were staying late one night - hardly a rare occurrence - and he was ranting and raving about something when I walked into the office, my arms full of files. And he looked at me, and he stopped speaking, right in the middle of a sentence, which he only does if something earth shattering occurs to him. And then he spoke again.

"Marry me."

That was all he said. And I was so sure that I'd heard him wrong, that I'd fallen asleep at my desk and was dreaming this. I dropped the files, but I didn't care about those, because he was in front of me and he was telling me all the reasons that I just had to marry him.

Toby can be very eloquent when's he's passionate. And very persuasive.

We got married a week later, in a very small ceremony, just four guests and us. We told our families after the fact, which may have been a mistake, because David was furious. I don't know what exactly he said, because Toby never told me, but I could hear his angry voice crackling through the phone receiver clear across the room, and from the look on Toby's face, I could guess the general sense. Toby ended up slamming down the phone and he's never talked to him since.

He doesn't know that I've kept in contact with Meredith, David's wife. We've become quite friendly over the past couple of years, and like I said, the rest of the family have come around. The only Ziegler who doesn't speak to me is David, but I know everything about him, about his missions. I knew he was on the space shuttle, and when I heard that it didn't land, I felt sick. I called Meredith, and she was frantic, but I told her that Toby and I would try our best to find out anything, that I'd call her as soon as I knew anything. Bonnie was given the job of handling most of his calls to Peter Jobson, and she'd tell me what little she knew after putting the call through, and I'd give Toby a chance to digest the news, to calm down, before I went in to talk to him.

And he wouldn't talk to me about it, just kept blocking me out. He does that, when he's really worried, and he doesn't want to worry me too. And he knows that I hate it when he does that.

I just haven't figured out how to get him to stop yet.

"David didn't think that it was a good idea…us I mean." I didn't mean to tell her this, yet I find it coming out anyway. "He said things to Toby…probably about marrying this bimbo Gentile baby, or words to that effect…and Toby can't forgive him for that."

"Toby's crazy in love with you." There's a soft smile on Bonnie's face when she speaks, although I know that when we first met, the idea of me and Toby together totally freaked her out.

"I know. But I still feel guilty. I mean, they're brothers…they shouldn't fall out over me."

Bonnie shrugs. "Maybe this is what it takes to bring them together."

"Maybe. I'm just worried…he's been under so much stress here the past few weeks… the polling numbers, the Town Hall meeting… and now this."

"I'll keep an eye on him for you," Bonnie promises, reaching over to pat my hand.

"You'll have his cell, right?" Toby hates to be bothered when the President is speaking, so he gives the cell to one of us, and we only give him the call if it's urgent. She nods. "If anything happens…"

"I'll make sure he calls you." Bonnie grins. "Not that I'll need to." Her eyes dance. "You've got him too well-trained for that!"

Her teasing makes me laugh, and as I do so, my eye catches the clock, and I give a start. "We'd better get back."

The bullpen is almost deserted when we come up the stairs, and we exchange a look when we see the light on in Toby's office. "Give us a minute, ok?" I whisper.

He's lost in thought, not looking up until I close the door behind me, the soft click disturbing him. His eyebrows lift in mild surprise. "Hey Ginger. I thought you'd gone home."

I shake my head. "I just went down for a sandwich with Bonnie." I cross the room to stand beside him, looking down at him. His eyes are dark and worried, more worried than I've ever seen them, and there's guilt there too. "I'm heading home now."

"Good." He nods. "Good. You make sure you drive carefully."

"I will." My voice is little more than a whisper, and without being aware that I'm doing it, I stretch out my hand and put it on his shoulder. He covers it with his own, casting an eye to the door as he does it. "It's ok," I joke. "We're married."

It's still a bad joke, no matter how many times we use it, but it makes him smile, and he's the Toby that I know for an instant. He scoots the chair back a little, presenting me with his lap, and I take the invitation gladly, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding him tightly. His head disappears into my hair, and I feel him take several deep breaths before he shifts slightly and speaks.

"I love you," he tells me, and I bite my lip. Toby doesn't say those words lightly, even now, and that, and the fact that he's letting me sit on his lap in his office tell me more than words ever could about his state of mind.

"I know you do. And I know you love your brother too."

He sighs. "I didn't even know he was up there today. I lost track of the missions…"

"Maybe when all this is over - the meeting, the mission - maybe we can all meet up. It's been two years…"

"I know. Maybe."

I pull back so that I can look at him, cupping his cheek with my hand. The bristles of his beard are rough against the palm of my hand, and memory sends a rush of tenderness, and something else, coursing through me. "You don't have to choose between us you know," I tell him. "You never have."

He smiles. "You are a very wise woman Ginger."

"Of course I am," I grin. "All Ziegler women are."

"Oh good grief." He laughs and groans in one sound. "You're quoting my sisters…what are you turning into?"

I laugh too, returning my head to its earlier perch, sighing myself as I feel his fingers tracing patterns on my back. "We all love you Toby. And we want you to work this out." He doesn’t say anything. "I could still come you know."

Those words make him shake his head. "I want you to. More than you know. But you should stay home…in case Pop or Meredith hear anything. They'll probably call the house first."

"And if you hear anything?"

"I'll call you. You'll be my first phone call."

His arms tighten on me as he speaks, and my fingers move through the thick curls at the nape of his neck. I'm just getting comfortable when there's a light knock at the door, accompanied by Bonnie calling Toby's name. "I'm heading to the cars now," she tells him, but she doesn't open the door, and I stifle a smile at her discretion.

My smile vanishes when I look at his face, because I really don't want to let him go, and he feels the same way. His face tells me that, even if his words don't. "You should go," he tells me.

I nod, bending my head to kiss his lips quickly, but his hands move to hold me in place, and the kiss goes on a little longer than I had planned. When we separate, he flashes me a quick grin. "I'll call you."

"You're coming straight home?" He nods. "I'll wait up for you."

"OK."

I grab my bag and coat from my desk and turn, expecting to see him at the door. Instead, he's sitting there, just as I found him a few minutes ago, except now he's looking out the window. I could go in there and talk to him again, but I don't think that would do any good now. With a quick prayer for David to whoever might be listening, I walk out of the bullpen.

When I get to the exit, I turn a corner and walk straight into Donna. "Hey Donna," I greet her. "You're not going to Rosslyn either?"

She shakes her head. "Josh was trying to talk me into it...as punishment for the chair…I hid. Was that a bad thing?"

I laugh, having heard about Josh's chair, or the lack thereof. "You do know, of course, that paybacks are hell?"

"I think I'll manage." She cocks her head and looks at me strangely. "You're not going either?"

"Bonnie lost the toss. And I would've switched, but Toby wants me home in case…"

Donna nods, not making me say the words. "No news huh?"

I shake my head, afraid to wonder what that might mean, knowing that that's what Toby's afraid of too. "So I'm heading home to wait by the phone and watch the speech on TV. You?"

She shakes her head. "I think I'm going to watch a video. Take a bath. Forget all about it."

"I wish I could, but Toby's going to want to talk about it when he gets home…I'd better look at it."

"Yeah." Donna looks up at the sky as we hit the open air, at the clouds that are gathering in the sky, and there are small drops of rain falling on the pavement, on us. "It's not supposed to rain tonight, is it?"

I shrug, having checked the weather earlier. Toby had wanted to know if it was likely that there'd be many people in the rope-line, and there's always less when it rains. "The forecast said that it was likely, but that it would blow over."

"Good." Donna shudders. "I hate storms."

I grin, feeling wicked. "Depends on who you have to cuddle up to," I tell her, satisfied at the shocked look on her face. "Don’t worry, " I add as I reach my car. "No storm tonight."

I listen to the radio as I drive home, taking in all the news of the day, hearing the media spin on the rescue of the pilot, the talk about what President Bartlet might be asked at the meeting tonight. When I get home, I do my wifely duty and listen to the speech, grinning when I hear Charlie get a name-check. I'd heard through the grapevine that Zoey told her Dad about something he was reading, and wondered if he'd be brave enough to show him the report. I jump when the phone rings, wondering who it can be. Most people, knowing that an event of this importance was going on would presume that both Toby and I were there, so the phone's been quiet tonight. It can only be someone important, someone who knows I'm here.

"Hello?" My voice shakes as I pick up the phone.

"I got the signal." I know it's Toby, but his voice sounds fifty years younger than it did when I left the office. I'm confused for an instant, but then I remember what he's talking about, and tears come into my eyes.

"Oh Toby…"

"Sam signalled a couple of minutes ago…I haven't even found Bonnie yet…."

"Then where are you ringing from?"

He clears his throat, and I realise that there's a lot of noise behind him. "I found a payphone," he tells me. "I just had to tell you."

I feel the goofiest grin spreading across my face. "That's terrific Toby."

"Are you looking at it?"

"He's doing great," I tell him.

"Yeah…I should get back in there…"

"Go," I tell him. "Just come straight home."

"I will." I expect him to just hang up, and I think he was going to, but he comes back. "Ginger? Can you call Meredith? In case she hasn't…"

"I'll call her," I promise. "I love you."

I can hear him smile on the other end of the phone. "Me too."

Then he does hang up, and I'm left staring at the phone, still with that silly smile on my face. Pulling myself together, I hit the mute button on the TV and turn my back to it, dialling Meredith's number from memory. She answers on the second ring, and I find out that she hasn't heard anything, but once I tell her that I don't have details, but that David's all right, she's crying down the phone with relief. We talk for a few minutes, agreeing that first thing tomorrow morning, we're going to sit down with the stubborn Ziegler men in our lives and knock some sense into them, organise a visit, a family trip of some sort.

I hang up the phone and turn back to the TV, just in time to see the picture change, to see a graphic with the words "Breaking News" emblazoned on it flashing up on the screen. I frown and click the mute off.

And then my world falls apart.

*

It only took an instant for the world to fall apart at the seams.

One minute I was walking with the President, with him smiling, laughing, asking me what I had to say for myself, making that stupid signal. And all I could do was laugh and say "Yes Sir," hoping that those two little words would convey my relief that David is ok and my gratitude for his concern. I should have said that to him earlier tonight when he talked to me in my office before I left, but I was pretty out of it then. But right then, walking out of the Newseum, with a good night behind us, and the prospect of a good night in front of me, I couldn't stop smiling.

And then all hell broke loose.

There was screaming, and shouting and the unmistakable sound of gunfire all around us. People were running and knocking each other down, and as I dove to the ground, I don't even remember what I was thinking. I do remember lying on the pavement near the gate, remember thanking my lucky stars that Ginger wasn't here, that she wasn't caught up in this, hoping against hope that she turned off the TV when the meeting ended, that she put on one of those girly chick flicks that I love to tease her about, just to watch her face turn that funny colour.

And then, sometime a century later, the shooting stopped, and we were able to stand up, to look around, take stock. People were standing still, too shocked to move, crying, holding onto each other. I saw CJ sitting on the hood of a police car, a medic talking to her, so I knew she was ok. I could see Sam walking around, and noticed Leo getting into a car with Shanahan. I already knew that they'd got the President in safely, that even now he and Zoey were speeding towards the White House. I didn't see Josh or Charlie, but in the madness, that wasn't unusual. It didn't stop me walking around, calling out Josh's name though - it's not like him to go to ground at any time, let alone during a crisis. And then I saw Charlie, and ticked him off my mental list.

Turning around, I saw the back of Josh's head, sitting behind a wall, and ran over to him.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing at first. There was blood, so much blood, and he was just sitting there, staring up at me. I must've called for someone, for help, because all of a sudden CJ and Sam were there, and Josh was collapsing on the pavement. He was so pale, so still, so unJoshlike, and I've never seen CJ or Sam so scared. I didn't know what to do; the only thing I could think of was to take off my jacket, to make a pillow for his head, and then the medics got there and we were pushed back, being told to let them do their work. We did that, but the three of us insisted on riding to the hospital with him.

Once we got there, we heard that the President was in surgery and that that was where they were taking Josh, and that the only thing that we could do was wait. So we were sitting there in the waiting room when CJ turned to me, and out of the blue, asked me a question. "Have you called Ginger?"

The blood must have drained out of my face and I shook my head. "I…I…"

CJ didn't say a word, just looked over her shoulder to the payphones. "Call her."

I made my way over there, and the only thought in my head was that I never used payphones usually, yet here I was using two in one night. Dialling the number, I noticed that my hands were shaking, and when she answered the phone, I thought that I was going to collapse.

"Hello?" Her voice was shaking, and it sounded very much like she was crying.

"Ginger, it's me."

My words removed any doubt I may have had as to whether she was crying, and any self-control she might have been holding onto. All she could do for the next minute or so was sob into the phone, as I told her over and over again, "It's ok, it's ok, I'm fine…"

"The President?"

I closed my eyes. "Is in surgery. His wound is minor…but Josh…" There was a gasp from the other end of the phone, and I realised that she didn't know about Josh.

"What about Josh?"

My voice cracked as I tried to get myself under control. "The bullet punctured his lung…and it collapsed…and a major artery was damaged…"

"Oh my God…oh Toby…"

"I know." I took a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm.

"Where are you?" she asked me. "I want to come over…" My heart leaped at her words, but I found myself shaking my head.

"GW…but it's a madhouse here," I told her. "And I'll probably be back at the office in a little while, once we find out more about the President and Josh. You should stay where you are."

"I can come to the office?" Her voice was very small, almost like a child's, and I felt terrible denying her, but my mind was already beginning to work, to plan ahead.

"Bonnie's at the office…she'll be there most of the night, so she's going to need you to relieve her in the morning…you should try to get some sleep."

It was only when I heard her harsh laugh that I realised how ridiculous that sounded. Because God knows, if she'd been in a shooting, I wouldn't sleep easy until I was holding her in my arms. "And you're really ok? You're not hurt?"

"Bruised and battered, but that's all," I told her. "I promise."

"Will you call me if you hear anything?"

"I promise," I repeated. "You take care of yourself, ok?"

"OK." She was trying hard to sound brave, but I could hear a fresh wave of sobs bubbling under the surface. "I love you Toby."

"I love you too," I told her, and then I hung up the phone.

Having done that, I found the nearest chair and dropped into it heavily, putting my head in my hands. I wished, I still wish, that I'd told her to come down here, madhouse and appearances be damned. I need to see her, to hold her, and I know that she's at home now, feeling the same way. So often when I'm in the middle of a bad day, or a terrible meeting, I can see her, or think of her, and I'm reminded that things aren't so bad after all. That there's more to life than this administration, and that there's still love in the world for me. I'd given up on that for so long before I agreed to do that speech at NYU, before I was bowled over by the redhead in the front row asking all the right questions. And since then, she's become more than the centre of my world - she is my world, and right now, I need her here with me.

But there's still a part of me that's grateful that she's at home, safe. That she's not caught up in this, that she's not going to have to deal with the memories of diving to the pavement, screams and the hail of bullets rending the night, blood on the pavement, on my jacket….

I shook myself and head back to the waiting room, sitting down across from CJ and Sam and we began the long wait for news, which is where we still are. Every now and again, one of us says something, and someone else nods, listening without hearing, but all the while, the only thought in my mind is that I want to see my wife.

Eventually, the doctor comes in with Mrs Bartlet and tells us that the President is out of surgery and in recovery and is going to be fine. Then she tells us about Josh, and it sounds even worse than I told Ginger. And we wait some more, every now and then discussing strategy, what might be asked of CJ in her briefings.

The doctor is telling us that it's going to be a long night when the opposite door opens and Donna comes in, and my heart ends up somewhere in my boots. This is my wife's friend, my friend too. She's been at our house for dinner; she was maid of honour at my wedding. And Ginger and I have talked about her and Josh on numerous occasions, Ginger being convinced that she's in love with Josh, and that Josh is in love with her, and that they're both totally clueless.

My wife is a very wise woman, and I make it a point never to disagree with her when she's right.

She asked me once what I thought about the whole Josh/Donna situation, and I told her that I didn't think that it was a good idea that a boss and his assistant get involved with one another. And she laughed and gave me one of those looks and asked, "Where does that leave us?"

"That's different. We were involved before you became my assistant. And you were a volunteer first, before you proved that you were the only one who could put up with me. Josh hired Donna on the campaign trail…" I shifted uncomfortably in my seat before voicing my next thought, a sense of disloyalty overcoming me. "And if Leo had seen her qualifications before he found out how well she could handle Josh, I don't think she'd have lasted the day."

Ginger had sighed, the political side of her brain knowing that scandal and disaster were written all over the pairing, the romantic part of her wanting to do everything in her power to get Josh and Donna together. "It could work though," she told me.

"Maybe." We left the conversation alone after that, but it comes back to me now as I look at her, her hair hastily pulled back, not a scrap of makeup on her face, her clothes messy and unmatched. Donna always looks immaculate at the office, and I've never seen her this dishevelled. And as she asks about the President, and babbles about how good it is that he's out of danger, it's obvious that she doesn't know about Josh. Sam and CJ both look at me, and I know that telling her is my job.

"Donna." She stops babbling and looks at me, and there's confusion written all over her face. She must be wondering where Josh is, hoping against hope that he's somewhere else, somewhere safe. And I'm about to break her heart. I take a second to consider what I'm going to say to her, then I remember that Ginger once told me that she'd much rather hear bad news out straight, no false sympathy. She's always been able to handle reticence better than big displays of emotion, which goes a long way to explaining how she can put up with me. And that's the approach I use with Donna. "Josh was hit."

She blinks, not comprehending. "Hit with what?"

Unseen by her, CJ winces, and so does Sam. Only a heart of stone could remain unmoved by those words, and I summon up all my strength to continue. "He was shot. In the chest."

CJ chimes in to help me. "He's in surgery now."

"I don’t understand." The poor girl is near tears as it sinks in. "I don’t understand, is -- is it serious?"

"Yes, it’s critical. The bullet collapsed his lung and damaged a major artery." She covers her mouth with one hand, and the doctor takes this moment to repeat that we can go home and that he'll contact us if there's any news. Donna sinks down into a chair and I see CJ rub her back reassuringly. Sam hands her a note and she tells us that Leo is meeting with the leadership in ten minutes, then she'll talk to the Press. Charlie stands up to go back to the Residence, but all I can focus on is Donna's back. Her shoulders are straight, unmoving, and I'd bet every last cent I have that she's just staring into space. And watching her, I realise just how right Ginger was - Donna is in love with Josh, and to look at her now would remove doubt from anyone's mind.

A shudder goes through me as I realise that it could just as easily be Ginger sitting there, staring into space like that.

Just as I'm thinking that I might go and call her again, wondering if I should in case she's sleeping, CJ tells me that she's going back to the White House to do her briefing, and I decide to go with her. I leave Sam with a few quiet words about keeping an eye on Donna, and calling someone if there's any news. Back at the White House, everyone is rushing around, but there's an unearthly quiet about the place, almost as if people are afraid to talk.

I only wish that that were true of the scene in Leo's office. Half of my attention is on CJ's briefing, playing on the television, the other is on Nancy McNally as she gives Leo a hundred different reasons why we should upgrade our Defcon posture. Leo's already heard them sixteen different times in seventeen different ways, and he's still not budging. It's then that he tells us that the Counsel's Office isn't sure that Hoynes can take us to Defcon 4, because the President didn't sign a letter before undergoing anaesthesia, as if that was the man's primary concern while he was bleeding on a gurney. When Nancy weighs in with the problems surrounding the interpretation of the National Securities Act of 1947, and CJ tells us that Danny is on it, and that there's questions about the canopy that the Secret Service used to use for entrances and exits, well, let's just say that my bad day got even worse, and it's not even light outside yet.

Because I remember a memo that I wrote. A memo which said that the canopy wouldn't be used anymore. I wrote it, the President signed it, and now he's lying in the hospital, having just been shot.

I'm so preoccupied with that thought, and the National Security Act, which I shout at someone to get me as I walk through the bullpen that I'm at my office door before it registers with me.

I thought for a second that I was imagining things, that I wanted to see her so much that my fevered brain conjured an image of her standing there in the bullpen. And I turn slowly, in case I really am imagining things, but she's still there, and she's looking at me as if she can't believe that I'm here either.

"Hey Ginger," I say. She looks as if she's going to fall apart, and much as I want to take her in my arms, and much as she might like that, it's probably the last thing she needs at the moment. The straw that broke the camel's back and all that, because it's clear to me that she's barely holding herself together right now. "I didn't know you were here." After all, I had told her to stay home, get some sleep - like that was a possibility.

"I just got here…" As she comes closer to me, I can see that she's shaking violently. "I just…I just turned on the tv…" I have a sudden image of her, maybe trying to sleep but not being able to, turning back on the TV, seeing the images that have been playing out time after time after time, knowing that I was caught up in that, that our friends were caught up in that. And then she's staring at me in silence, with this lost look on her face, and need be damned, and appearance be damned, because I take her in my arms and I hold her. I don't care who's looking at us, although a quick glance over her shoulder tells me that no-one is. While a scene like this might have been cause for teasing only a few hours ago, people have more important things to worry about now.

So I hold my wife in my arms for a couple of seconds, and I tell her that it's ok, that it's all right.

And I know that I’m lying to her. We're in a mess of trouble with the 25th, the President is in surgery, Josh might die, and there's a massive manhunt over three states.

But I'm here, and she's here, and we're together. So it's better than it might be.

*

When the phone rang, I didn't know whether to answer it or not. It had taken a while for the news images to filter through my brain, to process what they might mean. And when my mind worked out what my heart already knew, my legs went out from under me, and I was on the floor, tears running down my cheeks, shocked. The first time the phone rang, it was Toby's dad. Then his two sisters. Then my mom. And I had to tell them all that Toby was there, that I didn't know anything, and would they please try to keep the lines free. They all said that they'd do a ring- around, telling people not to ring me, but when the phone rang again, I thought that maybe someone had slipped through the cracks.

Or worse, that it was someone from the hospital, or from the staff to give me bad news.

"Ginger, it's me."

Those are the three most beautiful words in the English language tonight. And I sobbed when I heard them, like I hadn't let myself sob before, because I knew that he was all right, that no matter where he was, he was able to talk to me.

Then he told me about the President, which I knew. And he told me about Josh, which I didn't.

All I wanted to do was be with him. At the hospital, the office, wherever. But he said no. That Bonnie was there, that she'd need me to relieve her in the morning, that I should stay home and get some sleep.

I wanted to ask him if he'd get any sleep if our roles were reversed, but I didn't. I think I was so pleased to have him safe that I would have agreed to anything. And I told him that I loved him and he told me that he loved me too, and when I hung up the phone I cried some more.

I cried because of the fear, and the worry, and the relief that he was ok. And I cried with guilt, because I should have been with him, I should have been there beside him. And because I thought of Donna, and what she was going to go through, because of Josh. I knew how much this was going to kill her, but I still felt grateful that it wasn't me.

The realisation of what a selfish thought that was stopped my tears, and I pulled myself together, picking up the phone, calling everyone who needed to be called, letting them know that I'd spoken to Toby and that he was fine, but that they probably shouldn't count on hearing from either one of us for a while. And then I did what I was told to do; got into bed and tried to sleep. But every time I closed my eyes, I could see the images from the TV, I could hear gunshots, and all I could focus on was the empty spot beside me where Toby should be. I kept wondering if there was any news of Josh too, and eventually I got back up and turned on the TV, to find much the same coverage as had been on when I went to bed.

I was sitting there, on the couch in our living room where I've waited for him on so many nights, looking at the screen when all of a sudden, it was like something snapped inside me. Next thing I knew I was pulling clothes out of the closet, dragging a brush through my hair, and grabbing my bag and keys. I drove to the White House on autopilot, just knowing that I had to get there. I've never seen so many police officers on the street, never encountered so many security checks. Even guards who knew me checked my ID, as if I'd suddenly acquired an evil twin who might have taken my place and who harboured homicidal tendencies.

I've only just entered the bullpen when I hear his voice, and he walks right by me, as if he hasn't even seen me. I want to call out to him, to touch him, but just the sight of him freezes me. I just want to look at him, to freeze time so that I can stare to my heart's content and make sure that he really is here, that he really is fine. Then he turns and looks at me, telling me that he hadn't known I was here. For a moment, I think that he's going to yell at me for not doing what he told me to do, which would totally finish me off, because to be honest, I'm not feeling too composed right at this moment. Whatever adrenaline that got me this far is starting to wear off, and I'm shaking, and I'm not even able to string a sentence together. After a couple of tries, I give up, and just look at him, hating the tears that I can feel pooling in my eyes. That's when he does exactly what I need him to do - he steps towards me and he holds me.

Toby never hugs me in the office, at least not in the open like this. If he does touch me, it's in his office, with the door closed, and we're always aware that someone could walk in without knocking at any stage. That's why, when people make jokes about what we could get up to in the office, we just roll our eyes and don't respond. Just like earlier on - and could it really only have been a few hours ago that we were in his office like that?- when he does show affection like that, it's because something major is going on.

The hug doesn't last too long, not that I expected it to, but it's enough to reassure me that he's there, that he's real, that we can get through this. And then he asks me if I'm all right, if I'm ready to go to work. And I smile, because he knows that keeping busy is the best thing for me right now. I'm the kind of person where if I sit down, I'll fall apart, so in the midst of a crisis, it's best to keep me busy. And I tell him that I am and I turn around to go to my desk.

"What?"

His voice stops me and I turn back to him, to see him looking at me with a puzzled expression on his face. "I didn't say anything," I tell him truthfully, and he shrugs and goes into his office.

I'm at my desk, pulling everything I can on the National Securities Act of 1947 when Bonnie comes in. She sounds surprised when she says my name, and I stand up and give her a hug. "How are you?" I ask her, and she manages a smile.

"Wishing I'd swapped places with you," she tells me. "You?"

I look over my shoulder to his door. "I'm better now," I tell her frankly.

Any other time, any other day, Bonnie would tease me for that, but she just smiles wanly. "Then I'm glad for you," she tells me, and I find myself blinking back more tears.

Because I'm glad for me too.

*

I sit at my desk and try to make my mind focus on work. However, it insists on making its way down memory lane, finding me in Nashua, three years earlier. The night that things began clicking into place for the Bartlet for America campaign. I'd been so sure that Leo was going to fire me, that he'd finally figured out that I'd never worked on a winning campaign, and that I was bound to continue my streak here. And when I saw Josh Lyman, who I knew as one of the major voices on Hoynes's platform was being headhunted, I knew that it was over for me. So even after the Governor did so well at the speech, I still wasn't thinking too optimistically. Especially not knowing that Cal Mathis had it in for me. So when he spoke up, and Leo said that if a change had to be made, it had to be made, I thought my time was up. I was even mentally reviewing how much it would cost me to get back to New York and Ginger when I processed his words.

"Jerry, Cal, Mack, Steve, you're fired."

Cal said, "What?", a sentiment I more than echoed.

And Leo continued, "No kidding. It's moving day. I want Toby. The rest of you - thanks very much. Fellas. Look at my face. You're done." And when they'd all gone, he gave me three words of advice that I've tried to take to heart. "Don't screw up."

When I got back to the motel that night, I rang Ginger. No matter that it was late, I had to tell her. And she sounded so bright, so happy, so young on the other end of the phone that I could hardly believe my luck. "So what happens now?" she asked me, and I told her that I didn't know.

"But McGarry's making changes…and if we get Josh Lyman…"

"He's one of Hoynes's big hitters Toby," Ginger told me, as if I needed reminding. "You really think he's going to jump ship?"

"You should have seen the Governor tonight Ginger…he was terrific. Had them in the palm of his hand. If we can just get some momentum going…"

"You will Toby." Ginger's faith in me was astounding, even if I didn't always believe. "McGarry's a smart man…he'll get it done. And so will you."

And we had. Josh had come on board, bringing Sam with him, and the day after firing Cal and his cronies, Leo had asked me to get CJ. Our key personnel were in place, and we picked up Ginger and Donna a few months later. I still remember the insanity of Election Day, people running hither and yon, getting more and more hopeful as the numbers got better and better. She was right beside me when CNN announced that they were willing to call the election, holding my hand tightly, and the minute the graphic came up declaring that Bartlet had won, that we'd won, the place went crazy. Everyone was dancing and screaming and crying. Everyone except the two of us. Because we were standing in the middle of all the craziness, kissing like newlyweds. Which of course, we were. And when we separated, we got the traditional teasing, but we didn't care. Ginger had buried her head in my chest happily, her pink cheeks hidden by her red hair, and I'd tightened my arms around her for an instant as I stared Josh and Sam down and informed them that it was ok, that we were married after all.

That was the first time that we used that defence, and we've had to toss it out every now and then since.

That night, we partied the night away. Ginger and Donna and Margaret were leading the crowd in the Macarena when CJ came over to me, and I thought she was going to tease me for the teenager-in-love smile which I knew was on my face. "Happy Tobus?" she asked me.

I blew a jet of cigar smoke in the other direction before I answered her. "I am mildly content CJ, yes."

CJ had laughed. "She's something else Toby," she'd told me, and I'd raised an eyebrow in question.

"I take it you're referring to my wife?"

"I am. Look Toby, you know I wasn't too sure of Ginger at the start." That was a bit of an understatement for CJ. Like my family, and Ginger's family, she hadn't approved of us when we first started dating, although she didn't actually meet Ginger until Ginger joined the campaign. She was worried that I was on the rebound from Andrea, that the age difference was too great, that I'd end up getting hurt. When we went back into her house to talk about her joining the campaign, she'd teased me about it at first, before asking me some probing questions about where we were going. And when she'd first met Ginger, she'd been cautious enough around her, until she saw us together, saw that we weren't a passing thing. "And I was wrong. I told you that the night before your wedding." She and Sam and Josh had taken me out for the night, and when Sam and Josh were drunk under the table, she and I had had a long talk where she'd given me her blessing. "And now that I'm slightly less drunk than I was then, I'm telling you again."

"Thank you CJ." The woman is like a sister to me, and her opinion is one I value highly. That's why I suggested her to Leo for Press Secretary, why I talked her into taking the job. Why I was so relieved when she liked Ginger.

I shake myself, bringing myself back to reality with difficulty and realise that the TV is still on in my office, and that reporters are still giving their opinions and summaries of what happened tonight. Most of them are all saying the same thing, things that I already know, things that I have to handle.

"And it's unknown at this time whether the President before going under anaesthesia signed a letter that would give temporary custody. Between George Washington Hospital and the White House, several thousand people have big number of people have begun to gather behind police barricades. An impromptu TV vigil with prayers being made...and collective breath being held."

I'm holding my breath as well, wondering if Josh is going to make it. Wondering if we're all going to make it. I sigh and put my head in my hands, and it's then that there's a light tap at my door. I look up as it opens just a crack, and Ginger slides in, closing the door behind her. "I have that stuff on the National Security Act," she tells me.

"Just leave it on the desk." My head went back into my hands when I realised who it was, so it's only when I smell something familiar that I realise it's not just a file that she's brought me. When I look up again, there's a steaming cup of coffee and a Danish on the table as well.

Her eyes meet mine and I find myself smiling. "You didn't have to do that."

She shakes her head, and looking at her from top to toe, I see that she's stopped shaking, and that she looks more together than I feel right now. "You need to eat something Toby. It's going to be a long day."

"I know." I let out a long breath. "Thank you."

She takes a quick look out the window, gauging the amount of activity in the bullpen before coming around the table. She stays standing as I look up at her, and she puts her hand on my cheek. It's odd - I remember her doing that before we left for Rosslyn. It was only hours ago, but it seems like another lifetime. I feel as if I'm a different person, as if nothing is ever going to be the same again. "You don't need to thank me," she tells me. "Someone has to take care of you."

She's teasing me now, trying to coax a smile out of me, and I turn my head, kissing the palm of her hand. Then I reach up and take it in mine, fingering her wedding ring as I do so. "You should have an engagement ring."

My words catch her off-guard. She doesn't have an engagement ring, because our engagement only lasted a week, and there was enough to do, what with organising the wedding and getting the actual wedding rings, and trying to run a Presidential Campaign to pick an engagement ring. And I know how unusual that is, but she doesn't seem to care about it that much. She's told me that before and she tells me again now. "I don't need an engagement ring Toby…and you don't need to think about that now."

"I know. I just…"

She leans over and kisses the top of my head. "I know. Drink your coffee. Eat your Danish."

"Yes Ma'am." I toss off a half-hearted salute as she leaves, and then I do as I was told.

*

I feel a little better once I've given him the coffee and the Danish. At least I'll know that he'll have eaten something, even if it's only that. And lest it get around the Senior Staff that I'm giving my husband preferential treatment, I go on a food run for all of us. CJ gives me a weary grin when I hand her a jelly doughnut. "Ginger, you are a godsend," she tells me. "I could marry you right now."

"Already taken CJ. But thanks for the offer." I look at her as she smiles, taking a bite of the doughnut and sighing in ecstasy. "How are you holding up?"

Just then, Carol bustles in with a sheaf of papers, throwing them on CJ's desk with the words, "Latest wires," before bustling out again. CJ waves her hand at me, as if to illustrate a point, and I nod, understanding what she's telling me. "You heard about the thing with the canopy?" she asks, and I nod, wondering where she's going with this. "Toby was the one who wrote the memo about that, saying that President wouldn't use it anymore. We were all in on the meeting," she quickly adds. "But Toby wrote the thing. I think he's taking it personally."

"But it…I mean…he shouldn't…."

I can't form a sentence, but CJ is nodding. "I know that. And you know that. I think Toby probably even knows that. But he just might need reminding."

I grin at her before leaving, thanking her for the heads-up. It's funny, I reflect, as I make my way around the bullpen. Once upon a time, I would have hated CJ for that - Toby never found out how insecure I was about her. He'd go on and on about this wonderful incredible person that he'd known forever, and when I saw how beautiful she was, I couldn't help but feel plain in comparison. But I knew that he loved me, I knew that there was nothing to worry about. It just flared up every now and again. When he told me that he was going to LA to offer her a job on the campaign, that was one of those times. However, I would like to point out that no matter what my girlfriends said at the time, I did most emphatically not join the campaign just so I could keep an eye on Toby and CJ. It's true that I wanted to be with him; it's also true that I thought Bartlet was a good man, and that he'd make a good President, and I wanted to be a part of that. I also wanted to be with Toby, so joining the circus seemed like a good way of having it all.

The first time I met CJ was at campaign headquarters, my first day at work. I'd arrived in town the night before and met up with Toby, stealing a night to ourselves before I met everyone else. He had to go off for some Big Important Meeting with Leo and some big deal politico, so he literally dumped me on CJ and trusted her to break me in. I was wary of her, and she of me, but a couple of hours into the day; it was as if we'd known each other for years.

To the extent that Josh thought that I was a friend of hers. I know that because he bounced over to the two of us, and nodded to me, before asking CJ if Toby's girlfriend had shown up yet, because he was dying to meet a real live saint. CJ had looked at me, and I'd shaken my head, wanting to see what else he'd say, so she'd affected an innocent face, which should really have been Josh's first clue. "Why Joshua," she asked. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Come on CJ, she's what…twenty five? A Masters student? And she's putting up with Toby? I mean, Donna can't even stand to be in the same room as him he scares her so much, and this girl is sleeping with him? Voluntarily?" He stopped then, noticing the look on her face. "And why are you looking at me like that?" Slow realisation dawned, and I swear I could see the blood draining from his face. "It's because Toby's girlfriend is standing beside you isn't it?"

CJ couldn't hold in the laughter any further, and I joined her as Josh just stood there, mouth opening and closing wordlessly. When I recovered, I held out my hand. "I'm Ginger Brady," I told him. "And I'm guessing you're Josh Lyman?"

He shook my hand with a nice firm grip. "Ginger, please accept my apologies…I would never have said those things if I knew who you were…" He looked affronted when CJ snorted, and I waved my hand dismissively.

"Please, you think that's the first time I've heard that?"

"Heard what?" Toby chose that moment to return to headquarters and find us, and Josh swallowed hard, not knowing whether CJ and I were going to tell Toby what he'd said.

"Josh was just introducing himself to me," I said.

"Did he say anything fantastically inappropriate?" Toby asked, and CJ looked down as I grinned cheerfully.

"Not yet, but the day is young." CJ guffawed at my response and even Toby chuckled before turning to Josh.

"Leo wants to know do you have the papers for the thing tonight."

"Donna's getting them together." I looked in the direction that Josh was pointing and saw a blonde girl surrounded by sheets of paper, a stapler in her hand and a look of panic on her face. "Or she's trying," Josh amended.

"Why don't I go help?" I said and did just that, leaving them to talk about me, as I was sure they would. When I got to Donna, I put on my best smile. "Hey. Need some help?"

She smiled uncertainly. "That would be nice. See, the pages are all laid out in piles…I just have to collate and staple them. All of them. In the right order."

"Which they are not," I murmured to myself, already trying to pick out some semblance of order in the piles. When that failed, we began to line them up, so that I could collate and Donna staple.

"I'm Donna Moss by the way," she said eventually, after we'd sorted out what we were doing.

"Ginger Brady." I smiled at her and she smiled back. Then she blinked and her smile faltered a little.

"Ginger? You mean you're…that is you and…"

"Yes," I told her, shaking my head. "I'm Toby Ziegler's girlfriend." When she blushed, I shook my head again in exasperation. I'd been getting that all morning. "Does everyone here know that?"

"Leo didn't react well when Toby brought up the subject of you coming out here," Donna confided in me, lowering her voice. "He was worried about how it would look."

"That's not a surprise."

"And this week…once Toby knew that you were coming…he was cheerful. He was smiling yesterday. All day. And singing to himself." She giggled suddenly. "I thought Margaret was going to have a stroke."

I shook my head, unable to reconcile the kind, generous, loving man I know with the monster that they all seem terrified of. "And you're all scared of him?" I asked her, just to make sure.

Donna nodded, eyes wide, and I found myself telling her about the first time that we'd met, when he gave a talk to my Masters class at NYU, how there was something about him that intrigued me, his intellect, his way of talking, how passionate he was about the subject. How I asked him out for a drink after the lecture, how we spent that night talking - just talking - until the bars closed and beyond. How I trusted him, totally and completely, and had never heard him as much as raise his voice.

That lasted until about an hour later, maybe two. And the first time that I saw him yelling at someone, I was a little freaked, I admit it. But what surprised me, and everyone else, was that he could be shouting and screaming at anyone within range, but never to me. I seemed to possess the knack of calming him down, of reasoning with him. And once that became common knowledge, his assistants, of which there were many, used to come to me for help. It got so that I couldn't do my jobs because I was so busy doing theirs, and that's when Toby and Josh hit on the idea of making me his assistant. Leo refused at first, worrying about appearances, but even he had seen how much better Toby worked with me than with anyone else, and once he saw just how many volunteers Toby had gone through, he acquiesced, although he did make the proviso that Toby should have two assistants, just in case. Hence Bonnie was welcomed into our little family, and we've got along just fine ever since.

She and Donna have become my two closest friends, and I spare several thoughts for Donna during the day, wondering how she's doing at the hospital. I can only imagine what it's like for her, and I don't want to imagine too hard, because it's too damn easy to put myself in her shoes, and if I do, I don't know if I'll be able to last the rest of the day.

Which has a surreal quality about it. On the one hand, it's passing much like any other day. I do my work, I see Toby, I don't see Toby, I talk to other people. And aside from the content of the work that we're doing, aside from the fact that people are missing, that there's an air of tension around the place, it doesn't feel that much different than at any other crisis. And I can't help thinking that it should. We've all gone through this huge life-changing thing…how can the world just be going on as normal? How is it possible that not more is different? At several points during the day, I feel as if I'm outside my body, looking in on my life, watching myself go through the motions, but not really being there. It's odd.

But I'm slammed back into my body in the late morning - or maybe it just seems like the late morning - when Toby tells me that they're going to take Josh off bypass, and that he'll be out of surgery soon. He's going over to the hospital, and he wants to know if I'm going with him. I nod, and he helps me on with my coat and takes my hand and we walk out of the office together.

*

We're quiet on the way to the hospital, and for a moment, I almost think that Ginger's fallen asleep. She hasn't stopped all day today; she's been doing work for me, for Sam, for CJ, not to mention feeding the five thousand, thanks to the White House mess. I always knew that she could handle pretty much anything, but she's outdone herself today. CJ, herself no slouch in a crisis, even commented on it to me on one of the many occasions that I was in her office, giving her an answer for something that the press would no doubt throw at her. "You talked to your wife today?" she asked me bluntly, leaning back in her chair.

I nodded, not really having the time for this conversation. "Yeah…she keeps bringing me food."

"She's been doing that for all of us…plus anything else we need."

"Yeah, I noticed that."

"She's something else Toby," CJ continued, this funny look on her face, and I wondered if she'd remembered that conversation on Election Night as well.

"I noticed that too."

"Toby." I was already on my way out the door when her voice called me back. "I know you've seen Ginger around today. But have you talked to your wife?"

I tilted my head. "Yeah." She held my eyes for a moment longer before shaking her head and going back to her work, and I went back to my office, wondering just how hard CJ got hit on the head when she dived to the ground.

"It was nothing to do with the memo." Ginger's voice shocks me back into the present, and I take my eyes off the road for a second to glance at her.

"What did you say?"

"I heard the questions. About the canopy? And this wasn't anything to do with the memo that you wrote."

I take a deep breath. "If the canopy was still used, then it would have made it harder for them to…"

"Toby, they're Neo-Nazis, who staged an attack on the Presidential entourage because his daughter was dating a black man. If they're crazy enough to do that in the first place, you think a tent's going to stop them?" Her voice is vibrating with frustration, and out of the corner of my eye I see her push her hair back with her hands.

"It would have made a difference," I tell her, and hear her sigh, but she doesn't say anything. The silence stretches until I park the car, and we get out. She stands for a moment, staring up at the entrance to the hospital, and I put my arm around her, squeezing her shoulder gently. The corners of her mouth turn up, wobbling perilously as she looks up at me with something that I think was meant to be a smile.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement around the barricades, and I turn quickly, seeing Ron Butterfield there. I give Ginger's shoulder another quick squeeze and tell her, "Go on in without me. I'll be there in a minute."

I go over to him without a backward glance, wanting to talk to Ron about the canopy and the memo. Because I feel very strongly that the Secret Service shouldn't be made to take the fall for this. After all, they're the ones who put their lives on the line every day to protect the President. They're paid to put themselves in front of a bullet if the need arises, as it did last night, because of me. It's true what Sam said, that we - all the Senior Staff- were in on the meeting. And it's true that the President hated the canopy, was glad of an excuse to jettison it. But he was easy either way; it wasn't a dealbreaker for him. He could take it or leave it and he left it at my urging.

And that's why we're here.

I tell Ron as much, and he trots out the same old line, that the Secret Service doesn't comment on procedure. And no matter what he says, about the fact that there are always questions, despite the fact that his hand is in a bandage for crying out loud, he says that it's fine. And I want to go over there, to tell them that it's my fault, but he won't let me. "It wasn't your fault," he says. "It wasn't Gina's fault, it wasn't Charlie's fault, it wasn't anybody's fault, Toby. It was an act of madmen. You think a tent was going to stop them? We got the President in the car. We got Zoey in the car. And at 150 yards, five stories up, the shooters were down 9.2 seconds after the first shot was fired. I would never let you not let me protect the President. You tell us you don't like something, we figure out something else. It was an act of madmen. Anyway, the Secret Service doesn't comment on procedure."

And there's nothing I can say to that, except to go, "OK" and tell him that he did a good job last night.

I sit down on a bench nearby, put my hands on my knees and sigh deeply. Right now, CJ's doing a briefing that will hopefully give the press something else to chew on. Leo's working on something to get Danny Concannon off our backs. Sam left for the hospital just ahead of me and Ginger, and they've probably taken Josh off bypass already.

And I'm still no closer to making sense out of this.

"An act of madmen," I say to myself.

"That's what it was you know."

The voice comes from behind me, and I look up to see her standing there. She's left her coat in the car, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ears, only for it to come loose in the breeze almost straight away.

"I thought I told you to go on in." I'm so drained that there's no anger in my voice, no surprise, nothing. It's just a flat monotone.

She shrugs, looking sheepish. "I didn't want to go in there without you," she tells me, her cheeks pink at the admission. She sits down on the bench beside me as she speaks, one hand reaching out and touching my knee. "An act of madmen…is that what Ron said?"

I nod, covering her hand with one of my own. "That's more or less what you said too isn't it?"

"We're both right you know."

I can't help but chuckle at the matter of fact tone of her voice, and put my other arm around her, pulling her towards me. Her head rests on my shoulder and her free arm slides around my back. I kiss her forehead and then drop my head, so that our foreheads are touching, and I close my eyes for a moment, just letting the world go on without us for a minute. When I open them again, all too soon, hers are still closed, and I can almost feel, as well as see, the tension draining from her face and body. I hate to move her, but I know we can't stay here all day, much as I might like to. Another kiss to the top of her head has her opening her eyes, and I give her a small smile, which she returns.

We both stand at the same time and make our way, hand in hand, into the hospital.

When we get to the waiting room, Sam is there, beside Donna, Mrs Bartlet on the other side of her. Charlie and Zoey are at the other end, and Danny is standing in the corner. When Ginger sees Donna, she lets go of my hand straight away and goes to her, enveloping her in a hug which Donna returns. I look around the room and figure out on the second go-around who's missing. "Where's Leo?" I ask.

"With the President and the doctor," Sam says.

"They're in with Josh," Mrs Bartlet concludes.

Donna is sitting back down now, and Ginger is beside her, her arms still around her friend. "Is he…?" she asks, looking from Sam to Mrs Bartlet and back.

"They're trying to bring him around…it shouldn't be too long," Mrs Bartlet tells us. "We'll know better when he wakes up if…" Her voice trails off, but we can all fill in the blanks, and what she didn't say ratchets up the tension in the room another notch, which only rises again when the door opens and CJ enters, looking crestfallen when she sees our faces.

Silence reigns in the room until the door opens again and Leo comes in. We all turn to look at him, and there's fear and hope warring in everyone's faces, until we see Leo that is. Because it's obvious that the news isn't bad - the man looks younger than I've ever seen him. I haven't seen him look this relieved since Super Tuesday. "He's awake," he tells us breathlessly.

Mrs Bartlet stands, her eyes alight with questions. "Is he…?"

"He spoke to us. He asked…" Leo gets choked up for a second and clears his throat. "He asked 'What's next?'"

We all smile at that, and I'm betting that every single one of us just got a flash of Governor Bartlet, snapping at everyone and bellowing at Leo during the campaign. We're smiling, half-laughing with relief when Donna suddenly bursts into tears. And not just any tears, but the noisy, hysterical weeping of pain and grief too long denied. Ginger's arms are still wrapped around her, but Donna's sobbing so hard that she can hardly stay on the chair. We stand there, just staring at the two of them in shock, all except for Mrs Bartlet. She picks up the little black bag from beside her chair and pulls out a syringe, injecting its contents into Donna. The shock makes her look up for a moment, and I catch a glimpse of her eyes, filled with pain and happiness all at once, then her head tilts back and she's unconscious.

"It's just a sedative," Mrs Bartlet tells us, her voice sounding abnormally loud in the quiet room. "I wanted to administer it earlier, but she insisted on waiting." She helps Ginger to get Donna lying across the chairs, propping a pillow under her head. "I'll stay with her. Why don't the rest of you go home for a little while? Change clothes, take a shower? There's nothing more you can do here."

We all look at each other doubtfully, and I realise that Ginger's still looking down at Donna. Her face is pale as she stares at her unconscious friend, her freckles standing out unnaturally against her skin. "That's a good idea," I hear Leo saying, and Sam murmurs his assent, something about the redemptive powers of a clean shirt.

"I'll head back to the office," I find myself saying. After all, one of us should be there.

Ginger's head turns slowly towards me at that, but it's CJ who speaks, and I'm very aware that she's looking at Ginger too. "Toby, you need to go home."

"I'm fine CJ," I tell her, stepping closer to Ginger. I don't register her words, "Maybe you are," before putting my hands on Ginger's shoulders, pulling her around to face me. "Ginger? I'm going to take you home so you can get some rest."

She nods, but she doesn't seem to be focussing properly on me. Somewhere deep in my stomach I feel a niggle of fear. It's been there for most of the last couple of days, between David and Josh, but right now, it's more acute than it's ever been. "And you'll stay, right?" Her words are faint, as if she's speaking from somewhere very far away.

"I'll head back to the office…" I try to tell her, but her head snaps up at that, her eyes blazing into focus.

"No!"

"Ginger, there's still work that has to be done…"

"Don't talk to me like that!" Her voice is furious now. "Don't treat me like your assistant! I'm not your assistant Toby, I'm your wife! And you spent yesterday worried about David, and all night worried about this, and you haven't slept in more than thirty six hours, and you were shot at, and I've been so worried about you…" That's as far as she gets before she lapses into incoherent sobs, and I pull her against my shoulder and let her cry, her arms going around my back, bunching in the material of my shirt. And that's when I realise that CJ didn't hit her head that hard when she fell; that her comments earlier on in her office were a warning to me. Because while my assistant Ginger was running around like Little Miss Efficiency, my wife Ginger was hidden in there, behind the mask of professionalism, and she'd been terrified for me for a good hour before I called her, and worried for me both before and after that.

I look up, to see CJ regarding us both with tears in her eyes, and meet Mrs Bartlet's eyes as she holds up another syringe. I shake my head, knowing that whatever Ginger needs, it's not drugs. I turn to Leo, and see him nod his head at my unspoken question. "Go," he mouths, and I nod once before turning my attention back to Ginger.

"Come on baby," I tell her, kissing the top of her head, leading her towards the door. "Let's get you home."

*

I really don't know what happened to me.

I was fine all day; I did my work, I was there when people needed me. And I was fine in the car on the way over to the hospital. A little preoccupied with trying to get my stubborn husband to quit beating himself up over the thing with the canopy maybe, but basically fine. I got a little shaky when faced with actually having to go into the hospital, but I felt better when I was sitting on the bench with Toby. And I was fine when I walked into the waiting room, holding his hand. I was fine when I saw Donna, when I gave her a hug.

It was when we were told about Josh, when she collapsed in hysterics that I started to feel remote from the situation. That I began to feel as if I was looking at my life through someone else's eyes. I've had bits and pieces of the feeling all day after all.

But I was holding her, feeling her sobs go through me as if they were my own, and I was standing there looking at her, looking down at her face after Mrs Bartlet gave her the sedative, and all I could think of was, "My God, that could have been me." But for the grace of God, that would be me. I'd tried not to think of it all day, and for the most part I'd succeeded, but it's hard to deny something when it's standing right in front of you.

I didn't mean to shout at Toby. I don't know where all that anger came from. And I certainly didn't mean to start sobbing myself, not in front of all those people. But I just couldn't stop myself. And then Toby was leading me out of the room, and I knew that he was taking me home, that he'd stay with me, that we'd both be fine.

We're halfway home before I start to come fully back to myself, and the magnitude of what I did in that waiting room hits me over the head.

I yelled at my husband, who is also my boss, in front of his boss.

I yelled at my husband in front of the White House Chief of Staff and the First Lady of the United States of America.

And then I remember Toby's arms around me, his voice trying to calm me down as he led me from the room, and I realise that my husband just called me "baby" in front of the White House Chief of Staff and the First Lady of the United States of America.

I don't know whether to be touched or mortally embarrassed.

I settle for closing my eyes and not saying anything, until the car stops and he puts a hand on my shoulder briefly, pushing my hair back. "Ginger? We're home."

I open my eyes and manage half a smile for him before getting out of the car, and he slips an arm around me as we enter our home. I look around me as I walk in, and discover everything as I left it. The lights are still on in the hall and in the living room, and I can see from there that our bedroom light is still on as well. In the living room, the television continues to blast updates about the manhunt and Josh and the President's medical conditions. Toby snaps everything off, turning to me with a questioning look on his face, and I shrug. "I left in a hurry," I tell him quietly.

He smiles sadly and crosses back to me, his arms going around me, pressing a kiss to my temple. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

"It's not your fault." My voice is strangely muffled from the cocoon of his chest, and I close my eyes as I feel him breath in and out. It's comforting.

"I should've told you to come down to GW…the hell with everything." One of his hands is running through my hair and it feels wonderful. "Because if it had have been you down there, there's nothing that would have kept me away. I should've known you'd feel the same."

I smile. "Just don't do it again," I tell him, and I feel him smile against the top of my head.

"I won't." He takes a deep breath. "So…eat, shower or sleep?"

I take a step back from him, not even needing to pause for thought to answer that question. Ever since we walked in the door, since I got him safe home, the tension that I've been living with all day, the detached feelings, it's all vanished. The only problem is, everything else seems to have vanished too, and I’m so tired that I can hardly stand up. "I just want to sleep Toby," I tell him, and he nods, taking my hand in his.

"OK then."

I lead the way into the bedroom, taking my clothes off as I go, not even looking behind me to see if he's following. When I get to the bed, I slide naked underneath the sheets, knowing that I really should pick up my clothes, but not caring enough to do so. I care even less when he slips in beside me and I realise that he's followed my example. And while normally that would lead somewhere, today I just wrap my body around his, close my eyes, and I'm asleep in minutes.

*

I can't believe how quickly she fell asleep.

She never falls asleep that quickly; neither one of us do. Something about working in the White House; the rush, the adrenaline means that it takes us a while to switch off from the stresses of the day. Although I suppose I shouldn't be surprised- it's been a hell of a few days.

I can feel myself beginning to drop off too, which surprises me a little. After all, it's only just barely after noon; there's something odd about going to bed at this time of the day. Something decadent almost, something that we never get a chance to do. Ginger's fond of saying that she can count on one hand the number of lie-ins that we've had since we've been married, and that one of those was our one-day honeymoon. "What's the world coming to," she's often heard to grumble, "When a woman can't even get to sleep late with her husband?"

I know exactly what she means.

I don't know how many times I've lain here like this, trying to keep sleep at bay, looking down at her, just watching her sleep. I got into the habit when we first started seeing one another, amazed that this woman, this beautiful, young, vibrant woman, would see anything in me. Would voluntarily want to be with me. I'm not stupid, I knew what people were saying about the two of us, family, friends, co-workers. I'd have known that, even if Josh hadn't got drunk off his ass the night before my wedding and told me just how he embarrassed himself in front of Ginger the first day he met her, exactly what he said to her. He had to be drunk before he told me the story, he said, because he thought that I'd be angry, that I'd go after him for saying something like that. But it was her reaction that got to him, that stuck in his mind. "She just shrugged and moved on, like it didn't matter. She didn't let it get to her. Mandy would've had my ass for a comment like that."

I rolled my eyes at the bare notion of Ginger being anything like Mandy Hampton, but let the rest of the conversation slide. Because I knew that what he said probably did bother Ginger a little, just as I knew that it probably wasn't the first time that something like that had been said to her. I also knew that to shrug and move on was a characteristic response on her part. It's what she does, what she always does. She sees a crisis, a problem, and she deals with it and she copes with it and she doesn't fall apart.

That's exactly what she did today.

What she always does.

Except this time, she couldn't help falling apart.

And it scared me, I'm not going to lie about that. My beautiful, strong, capable Ginger…I've never seen her like that before. But it doesn't change how I feel about her. Doesn't change that I promised to spend my life with her. It just gives me the chance to do for her what she's done for me for so long. Picked me up, held me together, given me a whole new life.

So many times over the past two years I've wondered what my life would be like without her, never more so than over the past two days. And I know that we're nowhere near out of the woods on this. I know that in a couple of hours, we'll have to get up and get dressed and go into the office. That it'll be late before we get back here tonight, probably even later than usual. And there's going to be articles and TV commentary and investigations and so much stuff going on that I can't even begin to fathom it. And I don't know how we're going to get through this.

But I do know that I have Ginger. And that she has me. And for now, that's enough.


End file.
